


Hot Stuff

by Nicola Mody (Vilakins)



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Crossdressing, Humour, Multi, Pastiche, Post Gauda Prime, Post-Canon, Romance, Romantic Comedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-05-29
Updated: 2009-05-29
Packaged: 2017-10-06 03:41:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vilakins/pseuds/Nicola%20Mody
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Avon and Vila, along with Soolin, join an all-female band on Gauda Prime.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hot Stuff

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by that wonderful old classic comedy, _Some Like It Hot_. The poster included in the story is based on a real one used for the film.

They'd been arguing ever since they'd got out of the infirmary in the fall-back base. Before, in fact.

It had turned out that Avon had been programmed by Servalan on Terminal to shoot Blake, but that hadn't really made much difference to Blake. Feelings were still running high.

And they were at it again.

"Have you any idea how much this damned well _hurts_?" Blake patted his ample front.

"Oh, come. You were wearing an armoured vest, and besides, the bullets could have penetrated several more inches before hitting anything vital."

Vila winced and retreated well out of range. That was low, even for Avon. Below the belt in fact.

Avon bared his teeth. "And have you, on the other hand, any idea what it's like to operate with a hacked brain for a year?"

"I can claim several years of that, Avon. As you well know." Blake's one brown eye regarded Avon sadly. "Despite that, how could you possibly think that I would betray you? I _trusted_ you."

"Much as the Freedom Party trusted you before you turned them in?"

Vila was unsure who he'd put his money on if it came to blows. Blake had a considerable weight advantage, but no depth perception. Avon was slightly uncoordinated in a hand-to-hand fight, but he knew some very underhand tricks.

"Avon! I couldn't help that."

"Ah. You do get my point, then."

"It's not the same thing at all! I never hurt or threatened you. We were friends. Why would you even think—"

Vila sighed. They were just going round in circles. "You know," he said, "you could just call it even and forget it all and start again from scratch."

They both turned to glare at him.

"Well, same thing on both sides, really, isn't it? Cancels out."

"Ah yes, Vila. The man who knew me for several years and still failed to notice that I had changed."

"But I did! I just thought it was losing Cally and the _Liberator_."

"And what did you do about it?"

"Yes, Vila," said Blake. "What did you do in the tracking gallery but stand there and watch?"

Vila took another step back. "Stunned rigid, wasn't I? Look, neither of you were yourselves and I didn't know..." He gave up and fled to the canteen.

 

He was, on the whole, rather relieved when Blake decided to close the whole Gauda Prime operation down.

"They not only knew about the main base, but I'd guess they also knew who happened to be in it—"

"Which we can infer from their use of stun settings so they'd have live prisoners to display," said Avon, leaning against a wall looking bored.

"Yes, Avon. Pity you didn't do the same. Anyway, we can only assume they know about this one."

"How extraordinary, Blake." Avon looked sardonically amused. "You seem to be thinking about the safety of your followers. There's always a first time, I suppose."

"Don't you ever give up, Avon?" Blake glared at him, and continued. "So we split up and make our own ways off the planet. And we'd better make it fast."

* * *

  
Vila decided to go with Avon, who was teaming up with Soolin for her local knowledge. "What about you, Dayna? Want to come with us?"

"I'm sticking with Tarrant." Dayna finished doing up her trooper's tunic. "You know, the dashing space captain who knows the ropes?"

"We're planning to take a pursuit ship if there are any at the port." Tarrant, also in Federation black, but dressed as an officer, flashed them a grin. "Or requisition something if there isn't."

Dayna hesitated. "Should we arrange to meet up somewhere?"

"Better not," said Avon. "The less we know about everyone else's movements, the better."

Tarrant and Dayna looked visibly relieved, and Vila didn't blame them. For a brief moment, he even considered going with them, but better the devil you know. Or at least thought you did.

* * *

  
Soolin looked around the street, deserted at this time of night. A typical small GP town, she thought, curling her lip slightly. Once she and her sister had regarded a similar place as the Big Smoke, full of exciting things like two-storey buildings, tea rooms, and an actual department store. The people who lived here wouldn't have moved; they lived by servicing each other and the farmers around; probably miners as well these days. They wouldn't make enough to be able to leave.

Soolin wondered how they would manage it. They had been forced to abandon their flyer outside town when it was fired on. What did that leave? The train?

"We need to find some way of getting across to the spaceport undetected," said Avon, "since it seems that all flyers are being stopped and searched."

Vila turned up his collar and shoved his hands in his pockets for warmth. "Nah. First priority is a meal and a place to sleep."

"Vila. We are wanted men. We cannot exactly book into a hotel."

"Course not. But I'm getting a bit peckish, and there must be somewhere in this town I can get us into for the night. Don't ask for much, me. Just the basic luxuries."

Looking up at the poster flapping on the wall beside them, Soolin considered striking off on her own, and not for the first time. She knew her way around GP, and no one had ever known she had been on _Scorpio_. But once again she decided against it. They weren't much, but they were the first people she had ever worked _with_, not for. They might be one of the most dysfunctional groups she'd come across, and that was saying something considering the one she'd learned to shoot with, but she'd been part of it. Besides, a hacker and a thief did occasionally come in useful.

"Hot Stuff," she said out loud.

"Eh?" Vila looked up, his face brightening. "I could certainly get myself outside some. And some wine to wash it down—"

"It's a band, Vila. And they're looking for people. Pity you two aren't musicians," Soolin said regretfully. "It would be a perfect way to get around without being recognised."

"Oh, yeah? I can play the drums, you know," said Vila.

Soolin turned to look at him in surprise. "Really?"

"We had a band on CF1. I was rather good, actually."

Soolin raised her eyebrows at Avon. "What about you?"

"I happened to learn the piano as a boy," Avon said stiffly.

Vila grinned. "Worth a try, then! I always fancied being in a real group."

"Vila. You have failed to study the not-so-fine print. It is an all-female band."

Soolin grinned evilly. "Which makes it all the better. They know what you two look like and they'll be searching all transport, but they'd never suspect a couple of—"

"Great loutish women?" said Avon.

"Speak for yourself," said Vila, and to Soolin, "You're not serious, really?"

"Are you?" said Avon.

"The more I think about it, the more I am. It's perfect. You'll be almost unrecognisable, and anyway they won't be expecting you to be travelling that slowly."

"Slowly?"

"With all the music equipment, it'll be by train." Soolin smiled at Avon's look, even more appalled, it seemed, than at the thought of wearing women's clothes. "It was always the best way to move all that lumber, you know. It'll give us time till the heat's off" She put her hands on her hips. "Well?"

"If needs must," said Avon.

"Oh, all right," said Vila. "As long as I don't have to wear a dress or high heels."

Soolin smirked. "I wouldn't dream of it."

* * *

  
"Right, I think I have everything we need." Soolin dumped the last of her haul into the department store changing rooms. "Have you both done a proper depilation? Good. You first, Vila. Strip off."

"Not all the way?" Vila hugged himself defensively, then looked even more worried as a thought hit him. "I mean, I don't have to change into anything _frilly_, do I?"

"You can keep your undies, I'm pleased to say. Frankly, if anyone got that far, they'll have twigged well before that. And just what do you plan to do with those socks you're holding?"

"Padding?"

"No no no. Soolin shook her head and slapped two soft flesh-coloured silicon pads neatly over Vila's nipples.

"Hey!" He looked down at them. "Um, OK. Bit small though, aren't they?"

"No. They're about right for a woman of your build, and they won't get in your way. _Subtlety_, Vila."

"Is a word not in his vocabulary," said Avon from behind her.

"And that doesn't matter much—he's a drummer. Now look, you just peel these off in the shower—" Soolin demonstrated and Vila yelped, "—and they'll stick back afterwards." She pushed them back into place.

"Thanks." Vila patted them with a proprietary air, then sniggered.

'What?" Soolin frowned at him, prepared for a salacious remark.

"Just thinking how they'll sting coming off Avon's hairy chest."

"Oh?" Soolin turned Avon. "You'd better depilate that too."

"_No_," said Avon in the sort of voice that brooked no argument.

Soolin shrugged and surveyed the clothes she had amassed. "If you were a cellist," she said to Vila, rather regretfully, "I'd have you in floral gowns and long straight hair."

Vila looked horrified, then rallied. "You can have me any way you—"

Soolin gave him an icy glare that froze his words. "Just put this on."

Relieved at the lack of flowers, Vila pulled on a black turtleneck, loose pleated brown suede trousers, and a yellow jacket cropped to just below his waist.

"Nice." Soolin nodded in approval of her own judgment. "All right, sit down and I'll do your face."

Vila eyed her warily. "Nothing permanent, I hope."

"Only semi. It will last two or three weeks, and I can touch it up if you need it." Vila opened his mouth and she gave him a warning look. "Be very careful what you say to the person holding the makeup. Right. Hold still while I tidy up your eyebrows."

"They weren't messy to start with! And you're not going to make them really thin, are you? I'm rather attached to them, you know. They have character."

"Unlike their owner," Avon said automatically.

"No, I'll just shape them a little. Hold still... Now for some skin cover... And lipstick. Open your mouth and don't move. Mmmm, a nice warm peach... and a touch of the same on the cheeks, I think."

"You're enjoying this, aren't you."

"I am, rather." Soolin remembered wanting to be a beautician back in the days when it seemed an impossibly glamorous occupation for a farm girl. "Now the eyes. Brown and a touch of gold, I think. Oh yes, that works well. A bit of colour on those lashes, nice long ones too." Soolin stood back and surveyed her artwork. "_Very_ nice," she said with satisfaction.

"I beg to differ," said Avon. "That will fool no one."

"Ah, but hair makes the person." Soolin picked up a layered wig streaked in brown, gold, and red, and positioned it carefully on Vila's head, then guided his finger to the small knob at the base. "Press once and it attaches itself. Again to release, but you'd only want to do that in private." She arranged the hair, then nodded. "Have a look at yourself."

Vila turned to face the mirror, and his eyes widened. "That's... not bad. In fact," he said to his reflection, "I'd ask you out if you weren't me."

"You always did show lamentable taste," said Avon.

"Yeah. Probably why I used to think I liked you."

Soolin rolled her eyes. "Your turn, Avon."

Avon had, she was pleased to see, used the time to attach his own pads and get into his clothes. He was dressed in dark blue trousers, a matching tunic trimmed in silver, cinched at the waist, and flaring slightly over the hips, and under it, a crimson silk shirt. "Excellent. You just need this." She handed him a silk scarf striped in crimson and silver.

"I think not."

"It's either that or a choker. Rule one: always hide your Adam's apple."

"The choker then." Avon picked it up and looked at it with distaste.

"Note the name. Do it up nice and tight," Vila suggested.

"I packed some turtlenecks for you as well," Soolin said consolingly. "All right, now for your makeup. I think," she said thoughtfully, "that you can go cooler and darker."

"If that's possible," said Vila.

Soolin smiled slightly, both at that and the fact that at last she had her hands on Avon's features as she applied foundation, then started shaping his eyebrows. "Plum on the lips," she murmured to herself, "grey shadow and kohl around the eyes, I think. Oh, _yes_. And now for the hair." Hair was of course truly the crowning glory, the one physical attribute so easily changed. She set Avon's wig on him and admired the result: dark, shining hair cut straight and thick above the brows, and falling to curl gently under at the shoulders.

"Bloody hell," said Vila, tearing his gaze away from his own reflection. "It's Cleopatra! They used to go on about her nose conquering ships and all that."

"Thank you, Vila."

"They'll be throwing roses at you on the stage."

Avon preened.

"They'll have to watch it though." Vila's eyes glittered. "Considering the nasty way you'd dump a date. Literally."

Avon took a step towards Vila, who retreated. "You're never going to forget that shuttle, are you?"

Soolin, never quite certain what had happened over Malodar, held her breath.

"You know what? I'd pay to."

Avon spoke quietly. "If I said I was glad I didn't have to do it, would you accept that?"

"You could give it a go."

"Consider it done."

"Consider it accepted, then."

Avon took a step closer, and Vila held his ground Avon looked at him and suddenly his mouth quirked. "You should see yourself."

Vila snorted. "I have, but have you seen you?"

Avon shook his head, smiling faintly. "Vila."

Soolin let her breath out in relief. "Phyllida," she said.

"What?" They both turned to stare at her.

"You're Phyllida and Yvonne now. They're close enough to your real names for it not to be too obvious if you make a slip. Choose surnames you can live with."

"Pronouns," said Avon, "might be more of a problem. _He_—" he nodded towards Vila, "—is certain to get them wrong."

"Like you just did, you mean?"

Soolin bit her lip. "It will be easier if you look at each other a lot. Keep the image in your mind, so that you think of each other—and yourselves—as women."

Vila regarded her curiously. "You seem to know a lot about this lark."

"After they killed my family, I passed as a boy for several years."

Vila blinked. "Oh, right. What about you? Now, I mean."

"Suellen will do."

"I mean, aren't you going to disguise yourself too?"

"I'm not on the wanted list, but I suppose it's worth it in case anyone here recognises me." Soolin tilted her head in thought, then smiled. "Something flamboyant, I think."

* * *

  
Karlis Makoti tapped her datapad with a plump brown finger and sighed. There really hadn't been any likely singers, so it looked as if she would have to carry on herself. Some of the girls had passable voices, but none had any stage presence, standing there in one spot with their hands clasped in front like pupils before an examiner. Staying on as the band's singer was not so bad though; she might be older and considerably larger than she had been in her heyday, but she could still belt out a number with the best of them.

It was replacing Lakshmi and Priyanka that was the real problem. She should never have taken on identical twins; it was just asking to have them poached.

No, what she needed was more musicians. Using recorded music and an automatic drumbeat was all right for the backblocks, provided you had a singer with presence (and she certainly still had that), but she'd need a full band before she hit the capital. There'd only been one she could possibly take on: the mousy little violinist, which would mean moving Mei to piano. Mei was good on piano, but a genius on strings. And that was assuming the mouse could play double bass as well.

There were just three more to see, and they came as a set, apparently. Karlis sighed again, poked her stylus into her springy black hair, and nodded at Saska. "Send the last lot in."

_Oh my_, she said to herself. Two of them had to be farm girls: big-boned, gawky great things they were. They could probably pull ploughs. The other one was very presentable though, once you could drag your eyes off the spectacle of her hair. "I'm Karlis Makoti, band manager," she said. "Up on stage with you, then tell me who you are and what you do."

The short one seemed to be their spokeswoman. "We've been working together for about a year now, mostly off-world, but two of the group just left, so we thought we'd see if we could join up with someone else."

Karlis retrieved her stylus and tapped it impatiently on her pad. "Names?" Not that she held out much hope for this unprepossessing lot.

"Suellen Lund, singer. This is Phyllida Dee who's on drums, and Yvonne Chevron is a pianist."

Karlis raised her eyebrows. Some parents really did _not_ think about the names they chose.

"It's Inner Gaul," Yvonne said icily.

"_And_ she's got plenty of it," Phyllida muttered, earning a glare from the other two.

"All right, do you know _Cabaret_? The song, not the whole musical."

"I do." Suellen nodded, bouncing on the balls of her feet, the picture of confidence.

"If you have the music, I can play it." Yvonne strode to the piano and sat down.

Phyllida slouched over to the drum set and made herself comfortable. "And whatever _you_ play, I can follow." She picked up the sticks, tossed them up in the air, and caught them with a flourish.

"Whenever you're ready, then," Karlis said resignedly.

Suellen looked enquiringly at the others, then nodded.

Yvonne positioned her hands fastidiously on the keys, the picture of a correct pupil who has been told that each hand had to support a credit piece each, then began to play with almost mechanical precision, and Phyllida came in with a gentle beat.

Suellen clasped her hands in front of her and sang in a small, clear, wistful voice, "What good is sitting alone in your room?"

_Just like the others_, Karlis thought regretfully.

Then Suellen leaned forward and beckoned, her voice cajoling. "Come hear the music play. Life is a cabaret, old chum—" she flung her head back and spread her arms, the full richness of her voice coming out, "—come to the cabaret."

All right, she was good. And so, it seemed, was Yvonne, though rather lacking in passion. Karlis regarded her sitting there bolt-upright and so correct, not a shining dark hair out of place, her profile aloof and expressionless. She had a slight double chin and a long nose, but she knew how to accentuate her best feature, her beautifully shaped lips. She was wearing tight trousers tucked into boots, but Karlis opened her pad and made a note: _Yvonne: short skirt, fishnet stockings, thigh boots_. The contrast with her cool and correct demeanour would be amusing. Perhaps a bright red feather boa for some numbers. Karlis smiled and made another note.

Phyllida, in contrast, had shocking deportment but that hardly mattered for someone mostly hidden behind a set of drums. She didn't have Yvonne's striking looks or Suellen's beauty, but she had a friendly, happy face and her streaky mop of hair suited her and her role. Seeing Karlis's eyes on her, Phyllida grinned and briefly juggled her sticks before continuing without missing a beat. She was good too, very good, and had the right stage presence for a drummer. Karlis nodded approvingly; nothing much to change there.

She looked back at Suellen and her hair, pale blonde at the roots, shading slowly through gold to orange, and finally to brilliant red at the tips, all gathered into a ponytail on top of her head, glowing like a flame.

"And as for me, I made up my mind back in Chelsea—" Suellen put her hands on her hips and flung her hair forward so that she gazed though a sultry veil of scarlet, and sang throatily, "—when I go, I'm going like Elsie."

Karlis sat back and smiled. It was fairly plain that they hadn't done the song before as a group—everyone was following Yvonne's book-perfect tempo—but she had found her new people. She glanced over at the other two. Saska was grinning with delight, and Mei gave her a solemn thumbs-up.

Suellen bowed, her fiery ponytail falling forward, as they finished to a virtuoso drum-roll not part of the normal accompaniment, then all three looked at her expectantly.

"Suellen," Karlis said slowly, "doesn't really suit our image. The name, dear," she added quickly as their faces dropped. "It's too, well, GP farm girl. Now something like Flame, or perhaps Blaze. Yes, I like Blaze."

Yvonne gave a faint sardonic smile. "A trifle equine, wouldn't you say?"

Phyllida sniggered.

"Flame, then." Karlis made another note: _Flame—candle—plain white dress_. That would look stunning in the slower numbers when the stage was darkened around her. She looked up to find them still looking at her hopefully. "You're hired. When can you start?"

"Today?" said Phyllida.

 

 

 

"That went well," said Vila as he and Soolin packed up his drum kit after the evening show.

"Anyone would look good to a small town like this. We need more rehearsal though." Soolin closed the lid and secured it. "But I thought you were used to the stage, drummer boy. I mean girl," she quickly added, glad that no one else was within hearing range.

"What, on CF1?" Vila closed and secured a crate. "Not the same, a prison audience. For a start they throw blunt objects, and that's if you're lucky. One reason I took up the drums—you get a fair bit of cover." Vila turned to look at Soolin. "What about you? Where did you learn to sing like that?"

"With my sister, when we were doing boring chores about the house or on the farm. Musicals were good because we could do the different parts." Soolin turned her toes in and put a finger on her chin, and sang in a breathy voice, "I am sixteen, going on seventeen, innocent as a rose..." She suddenly stopped and looked away, her face distant.

"Shouldn't have asked. Look, I'm sorry." Vila put an arm across her shoulder.

Normally Soolin would have pushed him away, but somehow done up like that, Vila looked even more harmless than he usually proclaimed himself to be. His face showed no flirtatiousness, just kindness and sympathy. Soolin leaned into him briefly. "Thanks, Phyllida."

Vila gave her shoulder a squeeze before letting go. "Well, girlfriends, aren't we."

"BFFs," Soolin said lightly.

Vila beamed

"You've turned very cheerful all of a sudden."

"And why not? Everything's changed. We're in a band, we're going on a train in a few days—just like in some old vid or book—and who knows what will happen? It's all open!"

Soolin knew what he meant. They had seemed to be heading for inevitable disaster all that last year, and indeed had almost crashed right into it, but here they were, off in a completely different direction. "You've never been on a train before?"

"Just Dome transports. Not really the same thing."

"As long as it's not 'Murder on the GP Express'," Soolin said teasingly.

Vila looked briefly alarmed, then waved a hand. "Nah, it'll be fun! I heard they have dining cars and sleepers and we don't stop till we get to the other coast."

"It's only fun the first few times," said Saska, coming over. "If you've finished, we're off to our digs. They're just down the street, and you're in with us, except for Karlis of course; she gets her own room. She booked right round the whole route before she knew Lira and the twins were leaving."

"Digs?" Vila said warily. "I'm not sure I like the sound of that. I've had it up to here with underground bases."

Saska gave him an odd look. "It's just cheap accommodation. It's what stage people always call it."

"I think you'll find," said Avon, joining them, "that it's derived from the expression _infra dig_."

 

And he was probably right, Vila thought. The room was plain, unpainted wood with a tatty rug in the centre of the floor and three beds down each long wall, and Vila regarded it doubtfully, worrying about getting changed in front of the women.

"I expect," said Soolin meaningfully, "that you'll want a wash. I know I do." She opened her case and removed a towel, cream satin pyjamas, and her toilet gear. "The bathrooms are at the end of the hall."

"Ah. Yes, right." Vila rummaged through his own case to find his gaily striped toilet bag and a pair of bright blue pyjamas with a pattern of spaceships, planets, and galaxies. He glared at Soolin, who grinned over her shoulder on her way out. Avon gave the monstrosities an appreciatively sardonic look, and then discovered his own.

"Winceyette, and with teddy bears? Very nice!"

"Shut up, Vil—lida."

Vila ignored him as he watched the other two gather their towels and gear. The beautiful and slender Mei Ling who played violin, guitar, and double bass as required, was way out of his league. Saska de Vries on the other hand looked more like it: a sturdy round-faced girl with long, straight light-brown hair, who was sizzling hot on the sax.

"Don't even think about it," Avon said in an undertone. "Soolin will have her eye on you, and she's still armed. As am I for that matter."

Mei gave them a brief smile as she went out, and Saska paused at the door. "Better hurry or they might run out of hot water."

Vila nodded and threw his towel over his shoulder. "Don't forget to do your legs," he said to Avon. "Karlis is getting you a mini-skirt and fishnets, remember?" He grinned to himself as he saw that hit home, and sailed out.

* * *

  
They were on their way to the first of a chain of resort towns on the coast, up north where it was much warmer, a trip that would take most of the day and all of the night.

Avon sat back in his corner seat, glowering. So far this had prevented any unwanted conversations, and besides, Vila was talking enough for two.

"Not like in the old vids, is it?" he complained. "I expected rails! you know, with that clickety-clack clickety-clack and all that." He played the rhythm out with imaginary drumsticks. "S'really just a lot of anti-grav sleds attached to each other."

Well, of course it was. "Cutting through forests and hills to lay tracks would have been far too expensive," Avon said scathingly. "All you need is a surface for the anti-gravs to maintain a set height from, so a light material suspended over the landscape will do." He smiled at Vila. "It would not, of course, sustain our weight should the anti-gravs fail."

Vila went pale. "Did you have to tell me that?"

"Yes."

"Don't worry." Karlis looked up briefly from her bookpad. "Nothing like that has happened for decades."

"Oh, thanks." Vila looked unreassured, but his spirits soon recovered. He bounced in his seat as they passed out of town, and peered out the window like a child on his first trip at the farms and rivers below until they were replaced by the vast forests that covered most of Gauda Prime. Then he pulled a face and got up. "Time to have a look at the dining car, I think." He paused at the door of their compartment. "I'll go and get a menu, shall I?"

"A menu?" Saska laughed derisively.

"No snooty wait staff in white jackets serving elegant three-course meals then, I take it?"

"Sandwiches and filled rolls wrapped in plastic," said Saska.

"Overheated and dried-out pies in paper bags," said Mei.

"No wine?" Vila said tentatively.

"Tea and coffee and cocoa."

Vila looked devastated. "Nothing stronger? We're on this thing till tomorrow!"

"Well, the tea," said Mei, "is strong enough to lift paint."

"But the cocoa is so weak you can almost see the bottom of the cup."

"Coffee, then," Vila decided. "Better than nothing, after all." (Avon privately disagreed.) "Can I bring anything back? My treat."

"Treat," said Avon, "would seem to be inappropriate in this case."

"Nothing for you, then?"

"Perhaps a protein or snack bar that has been factory packed. And water."

Vila pulled a face and took everyone else's orders. He returned, having chosen for himself a cheese and, regrettably, pickled onion sandwich and what Saska said was a railway bun. This turned out, apparently, not to be as bad as she had led Vila to believe. "Bit like one of my mum's rock cakes," he said, chewing stubbornly. "Smoother looking, but much the same texture. Takes me back, that does."

Avon finished his protein bar and folded his arms in his corner, closing his eyes in the hope that Vila and the others would ignore him.

This was one of the lowest points in his life.

If it wasn't enough that he, one of the cleverest computer people in the Federation and ex-owner of the most magnificent ship in the galaxy was reduced to piano player in a provincial band, he was also its comic relief. For some reason his, to him quite ordinary, high-heeled boots, the appalling fishnet stockings, and the ghastly red feather boa caused great amusement in the audience. He was supposed to swing the boa alluringly at certain points in songs, notably _Mein Herr_, and although he did so as briefly and desultorily as possible, this only made them laugh more.

It was unfair. Vila was supposed to be the comedian, but he got _applause_ for his drum solos.

Avon had never even liked playing the piano. It was something his mother, a talented player herself, had forced him into, and he had applied himself to it with the same intensity he gave to his studies.

He had never been able to play by ear like his mother though, and there had obviously been other lacks in his playing. He had done well in exams and even come second in an interschool competition, but the examiners and judges always said that he played without expression. This was puzzling; Avon knew he used _piano_ and _forte_ in the right places, and surely that sufficed. However Karlis liked his style.

She said it was funny.

Avon pressed his fingers to his temples. He suspected he was getting a headache.

"So," said Vila around the last of his currant bun, "what happened to the others? The ones that left?"

Avon opened his eyes. That might be worth knowing, or at least distracting.

"Lira married a millionaire," Saska said gloatingly.

"At least you assume she did," said Mei.

"Of course she did! He plied her with diamonds and roses and meals out. And a ring."

"Even if he did marry her," Mei screwed up her nose, "he was old and ugly and he'd been married before. How long would it take till he decided to trade her in for a newer model?"

"Even if he did," said Saska, "she'd be left with enough money to get far away from here." Her eyed went unfocussed. "That's all I want. A nice place far, far away."

"Oh, but you can't!" said Vila. "Marry for money, I mean."

"Yes, I can."

"You're worth more than that!"

Mei smiled. "You're a romantic, Phyllida."

Avon snorted in a very unladylike way.

"And you're not?" Vila asked Mei.

"Not me. I plan to become a soloist, a concert violinist, and then I shall pick and choose for myself."

"Oh, good for you!"

"Besides, it's the singer they notice. Not us musicians."

"Don't look at me," said Soolin. "I have no intention of being bought or owned by anyone."

"I'm delighted to hear it," said Karlis with understandable self-interest.

"What happened to the other two, then?" asked Vila.

"Priyanka and Lakshmi?" said Saska. "Identical twins, weren't they."

Vila looked both uncertain and unusually interested.

"Snapped by a cruise director for their own band at one of the resort towns a few weeks back," Karlis said. "No more twins for me."

"You never know your luck in a big galaxy," Saska said dreamily. "All those planets they'll visit."

"As long as it wasn't the _Space Princess_," said Vila. "Because they won't know they have."

Saska looked puzzled, then shrugged and decided to let it go. "But what about you, Phyllida? What do you want?"

"Me? Oh, I used to dream about having lots of kids, but frankly? I'd settle for someone who likes me."

"That shouldn't be hard for someone like you: sweet, kind, and funny. What more could they want?"

"Beauty, brains, and bravery?" said Avon.

Vila looked so downcast, Soolin said teasingly, "Two out of three isn't so bad."

He beamed and, Saska thought, almost made it three.

 

The compartment transformed into a sleeper at night, with the seats and backs forming two bunks on each long wall, and a third folding down from the ceiling.

"Bagsie tops!" said Vila, swarming up as soon as they were set up.

"Bag. Sie," said Avon, making it two words.

"That's what we always said at Ju—at my first boarding school."

"The one where they locked the gates?"

Vila gave him a warning glare. "They always do at night. What with all those sweet innocent young girls like me." He wriggled under the covers and began to thrash about trying to remove his clothing and put on his spaceship pyjamas without being seen.

Avon watched him, bemused.

"Modest, isn't she?" said Saska.

"Modesty is not the word you would use if you had heard her boasting about her talents."

"I'm just shy!" said Vila, muffled beneath his twisted pyjama top.

"You omitted the word 'work'."

Saska laughed. "You two are so funny! You should do a comedy act."

"_No_," Avon sat down on the bottom bunk and savagely opened his suitcase.

"We'll stick to music," said Karlis. "They're funny enough playing that."

Avon looked at the teddy bear pyjamas. Had Soolin chosen them, or had Vila with his sleight-of-hand slipped them into his luggage? Admittedly Vila's were almost as hideous, but he was capable of misdirection. Avon stood up and pulled the curtains closed. Not only would it stop Vila watching the others getting changed, it would hide the ghastly things from general view.

Vila's head appeared, hanging upside-down. "Good night, Yve me old mate!"

"Go away."

Vila's bunk creaked as he made himself comfortable. "Tomorrow's another day."

"Once again, you excel at stating the obvious."

All the same, he wished he could share some of Vila's optimism and enthusiasm. And it was, even if he admitted it only to himself, rather pleasing to see the old Vila (if in makeup and wig) back after that long last year.

* * *

  
Jorj Farias sat enthralled.

He had seen the posters and thought why not; what else was there to do anyway? He had been here for two weeks and was as bored as he usually was with the beach, the hotel and its obsequious staff, the meals, the same old excursions out on the bay. _Hot Stuff_, he'd thought. That might be different.

And it was. Well named, too. "Oh, my." he said, and licked dry lips.

"Gorgeous isn't she?" said the chap next to him.

"Hmmm?"

"Flame."

"Oh, Oh yes, I'm sure she is."

Jorj considered passing his card backstage afterwards, but he really ought to send something with it. A bracelet perhaps. Or a single, perfect rose.

Yes. He'd do that. They were here for several days. He had time, and surely they weren't playing _every_ night. He would have to find out.

* * *

  
"He's here again," said Saska, peering through a gap in the curtain. "That makes three nights in a row."

"Who?" Vila stood on tiptoe behind her to see.

"Jorj Farias. Middle of the front row, in the grey."

"That skinny little bloke? Who's he when he's at home?"

"You can tell you're not from GP! He's Farias Mining, he is. A real live millionaire."

"Mining!" Vila was shocked. "Look, he'll be a right bastard then! Don't you have anything to do with him, Saska! I've worked in a mine—"

"For a few hours," said Avon, lounging against a wall.

"So? I've seen what they're like!"

"Not Farias Mining," said Saska. "They're nothing like the criminals and gangsters who came here lately. They've been on GP for generations and they look after their workers. You can retire well off working in a Farias mine."

"Yeah, what they call danger money," Vila muttered. "What's he doing here, then?"

"Passing the time, I suppose. He lets his managers run the company."

"Ah. One of the idle rich." said Avon.

"So what if he is, Yvonne? It so happens we have a lot of respect for the Farias name on GP."

"I wasn't expressing any disapprobation as it happens."

"Anyway, if he's here again, he must fancy one of us." Saska's eyes sparkled.

"Maybe," said Vila. "But if it's you, you be careful!"

"Oh, Phyllida! You're so _sweet_!"

 

"For you, Yvonne." Karlis held out a dewy, deep red rose and a card.

"For me?" Avon took a step back.

"Oh, I think so." Karlis read out, "'For the pianist with the peerless profile. Please do me the honour of—'"

Avon snatched the card.

"Well?" Vila danced around him, his face alight with glee. "What else does it say?"

"He asks me to a meal tomorrow night since we do not have a performance."

"Are you going?"

Avon looked down his nose at Vila. "Of course. Although I hope that he does not make a habit of alliteration."

* * *

  
"What's everyone doing today?" asked Saska, back in their digs after breakfast.

"Suellen and I are off to a spa." Mei draped an arm across Soolin's shoulders. "I happen to have a date tonight too, and I'd like a bit of pampering and maintenance."

"Sauna and a long massage," Soolin said dreamily, "followed by a facial and a full manicure and pedicure." She looked mischievous. "I can't tempt you, Yvonne and Phyllida. Can I," she said pointedly.

"No," Avon said briefly.

Mei's eyes widened. "Oh, but you should have your nails and hair done before tonight!"

"I'll do them," said Vila. "Her nails anyway, I'm good with my hands."

"Phyllida has a fabled delicate touch," Avon said gravely.

"But just remember," said Vila with an arch look, "be careful tonight. Don't you let him take advantage, Yvonne."

Saska looked up from rifling through her case. "Oh but Jorj Farias is a perfect gentleman! Or so they all say."

"All?" Vila looked interested. "Who? All the women he's been out with?"

"The magazines and gossip vids."

"He never has a second date though." Mei gave Avon a slightly malicious smile. "He must have impossibly high standards."

"He's just shy!" said Saska.

"I am relieved to hear it. I merely want a palatable meal and some passably interesting conversation. It would after all make a change."

"Watch the insults," said Vila, smacking his wrist. "Or I'll paint your talons lime green. Not jealous, are you, Saska?"

"Not me. I make it a policy not to go out with anyone who weighs less than me." Saska stuck her sunglasses on top of her head. "I'm off down to the beach."

"To the marina where all the rich bastards' yachts are, you mean," said Mei perceptively.

"I may walk that way."

"So might I," said Vila under his breath as she left.

 

Avon watched as Vila painted his last nail. "You seem surprisingly proficient. Have you worked in a beauty salon, excuse the verb?"

"Nope. First time. How hard could it be?" Vila admired his work. "Very nice. Matches your lippy, and that rose wossname sent you." He sat back. "Mei has some little flower stickers—"

"No."

"Please yourself." Vila jumped up and went to the door and locked it.

Avon's eyes narrowed. "What are you up to?"

"Just having some time off, myself." Vila felt under his wig to release it, whipped it off, and ruffled his own hair.

"You can't do that!"

"Watch me." Vila opened his case and pulled out the grey tunic and trousers he had arrived on Gauda Prime in.

"Idiot! Someone might recognise you!"

"Nah." Vila stripped with an efficiency learned in stage dressing rooms, removed his padding, and started pulling on his old outfit. "Not in half a block. There's a clothes shop just down the road, and no one will know it's me in one of those silly nautical get-ups they wear out on those water thingies—"

"Yachts."

"Right, and sunglasses and a peaked cap."

"And lipstick."

"Good point, but I thought of that!" Vila held up a tub of foundation. "More makeup to cover the makeup! This should do the trick, round the eyes too."

Avon shook his head. It was obvious what Vila had planned. "You're a fool."

"On the other hand, you'll be glad to get rid of me: admit it. You can't wait to have the room to yourself."

"There is that." Avon blew on his nails and, deciding after a gentle poke that they were dry, picked up his bookpad. "Be careful."

"I didn't know you cared!"

"I don't. You may lead them to me."

* * *

  
Vila made it down to the marina in good time, then strolled along until he caught a glimpse of the bright pink and orange Saska was wearing. She was walking away from him: perfect. He leaped onto a yacht, making it rock unnervingly, then after making sure this was normal behaviour for the thing, continued to the next one and the adjacent jetty. He ran to the end and crossed back via the yachts moored there.

Straightening his white jacket (over blue and white striped shirt and blue trousers, an outfit completed with a captain's hat with an anchor on it) he stepped onto the jetty and sauntered casually towards Saska.

"Morning." He lifted his cap courteously. "Lovely day, isn't it?"

"It is!" Saska said enthusiastically.

Vila hesitated, but she didn't seem to be able to think of anything more to say. "I'm just off for a stroll along the beach," he said, and took a couple of steps, then stopped and looked back as if struck by a sudden thought, "Care to join me?"

"Oh! Oh yes, I would!"

"Excellent! We can share a cold drink or an ice cream. I mean, we'd have our own, one each of course." Vila rolled his eyes behind his sunglasses at his own verbal clumsiness, but Saska laughed and it seemed it had broken the ice.

 

They sat on the seawall sipping tall fancy cocktails through straws.

"We could take our shoes off and walk in the sand." Saska made her straw slurp as she got the last of her drink up from between the ice cubes. "Go for a paddle."

Vila looked worried. "Wouldn't that be _gritty_?"

"Well, yes, I suppose it would. But it's nice. Never mind; the water's probably still too cold."

"Ah."

"So." Saska looked at him sideways. "Do you live on your yacht?"

"Eh? Oh no, I just borrowed one. I'm from off-planet, just visiting."

Saska looked wary. "You don't look like a gangster."

"Of course I'm not!"

"You must have pots of money then, not to care about GP being an open planet."

"Millions," said Vila, airily and accurately. "But enough about me. What do you do?"

"I'm in a band."

"Oh? What do you play?"

"The sax, the trombone, and sometimes the trumpet."

"Ah. You must have talented lips, then."

"Is that an invitation?" Saska grinned and leaned in for a kiss, and Vila, alarmed, leaped up; the last thing he wanted was for her to recognise the taste of her own foundation. Saska pouted. "Are you shy?"

Two shy millionaires would be one too many. "Not at all. We just don't go in for kissing where I come from."

"What d'you do then?"

Vila thought fast. "Touch foreheads. Like this." He took off his sunglasses and leaned forward to gently nudge her.

"Oh. That's... interesting." Saska tilted her head and smiled. "You have nice eyes."

"Do I?" Vila hastily put his glasses back on in case she saw the concealing makeup. "Sorry, the sun's brighter than what I'm used to." He bent and picked up a shell and lobbed it out to sea.

Saska stirred the sand with a toe. "So what did you come here for?"

"Just a holiday."

"On _Gauda Prime_?"

"It's very pretty here, and besides, its reputation has scared people off. Not so many tourists."

Saska regarded him thoughtfully. "How did you make your money?"

It would, Vila felt, not go down well that a lot of it was from stealing and most from cheating a casino. "I'm in acquisitions," he said vaguely.

"Acquis—" Saska glared. "Oh yes, I know what that means! Buying up businesses and land cheap because people are frightened and want to leave. You—you _vulture_!" She pushed Vila so hard, he fell backwards to sit in the sand, then stomped off.

"Ow." Vila rubbed his chest mournfully, then suddenly grinned.

* * *

  
"What are you doing back here, Vila?" Avon looked over his bookpad with distaste.

"Just changing, so to speak. I won't be here long."

"I take it things did not go as planned."

"Actually, not as badly as you might think."

* * *

  
After dinner, over which they had politely discussed the meal, the wine, the town and its attractions, and the band's musical selection, Farias asked the putative Yvonne to accompany him for a stroll along the waterfront.

"The moons are lovely tonight," he said.

"They have a relatively high albedo, and the atmosphere is clear." Avon gazed up, wondering if he would see one of the larger ships of the blockade move across one.

Farias tried again. "The moonlight's very pretty on the water."

"Yes. The angle of reflection is optimal for the lower one."

Farias laughed suddenly. "You're worse at small talk than I am."

Avon looked at him with more interest. "Then perhaps we should abandon the attempt." If Farias construed that as a pass however, he'd regret it.

"I suppose," Farias said sadly, "that you know who I am."

"I know you own Farias Mining, if that is what you mean."

"I thought so. Everyone does."

"What intrigues me," said Avon, leaning on the promenade railing, "is why the mining companies that moved in on Gauda Prime didn't take you over."

"We're just tin and silver. They're after the richer pickings so they left us alone."

"Ah. You do realise that the Federation is about to move in and they'll take over everything that they can? It will be quite legal, even after they re-establish a legal system; they'll be the government."

"Yes. I've thought of that. It's why I'm still here."

"Oh? Trying to extract capital?"

"No, most of it's safely off-world, but I'm worried about what will happen to the miners. I feel responsible."

_Not another idiot idealist!_ "The Federation or their intermediaries would work them like slaves."

"I don't think 'like' would come into it." Farias sighed. "They may just be workers to you, but we've always tried to treat them well."

"So I've heard. If it worries you, simply work out what the mines are worth at a fair price, and divide that up among the workers. That should give them more than enough to establish themselves elsewhere."

Farias brightened. "I could do that!"

Not someone used to decision-making, it seemed. "And after that, I'd suggest you get any capital you have left off-planet as well. I could advise you of some fairly safe investments. Or some more lucrative ones if you prefer."

"You haven't always been a piano player, have you?"

"I was in banking."

"What happened?"

"Various problems ending with a crash."

Farias raised his eyebrows. "On the run from creditors?"

"Not at all. Like you, I have my funds safely elsewhere. I fell afoul of what passes for the authorities on this planet and decided to lie low for a while."

"Ah yes. Happened to a lot of people I know." Farias straightened. "We could go somewhere warmer for a coffee."

"To discuss investments?"

"Of course." Farias took Avon's arm as they walked away. "Call me Jorj."

"Call me Yvonne."

* * *

  
When Mei came in, Saska. Phyllida, and Suellen were all sitting on Saska's bed. They looked as if they had been having fun, and Mei felt obscurely left out.

"Girls' night in? Pyjama party?"

Saska wiggled her fingers at Mei, flashing iridescent blue and green. "Look, Phyllida painted my nails!"

"So I see."

"And Suellen did my hair." Saska turned her head briefly to show the complicated braiding.

"Very pretty."

"Come on!" Saska patted the bed beside her. "Tell us what your date was like."

Mollified, Mei sat down, and Saska handed her a box of chocolates. "A boor and a bore," said Mei, selecting a hard centre. "Both spellings."

 

When Avon came in, he was disconcerted to see all four of them still up, and looking at him expectantly.

"Did you meet any promising millionaires, Saska?" he asked, to distract them.

Saska pulled a face. "One, but he turned out to be the worst kind."

"Did he now." Avon flashed a quick, amused glance at Vila.

"I gave him what he deserved though."

"She did!" said Vila. At Avon's surprised look, he added blandly, "Saska told me all about it."

"I ran into Phyllida in town afterwards, and she was so sweet! So sympathetic and funny and cheering, and we had coffee and ice cream, then lunch, and then we went out on one of those boats you can see the fish from—"

"Glass bottom," said Vila. "Bit unnerving, that."

"And then we came back here and found Suellen and went to dinner." Saska leaned sideways and kissed Vila on the cheek. "Phyllida is a darling! I had a lovely day after all!"

Vila put his head on Saska's shoulder, looking blissful. "BFFs," he said obscurely.

"We so _are_!"

Vila sat up. "But what about you, Yvonne?" He grinned knowingly. "Tell us all."

"No." Avon tuned his back and, draping his dressing gown over his shoulders, started to remove his clothes under its cover, a process he now had down to a fine art.

"You do realise that the less you say, the more we'll speculate," Mei said, amused.

Avon peeled off his trousers. "We went to dinner. We had the usual awkward conversation of people who have just met."

"Ah, but there was more than that. Dinner must have finished hours ago."

"We went for a walk." Avon shimmied into the hideous teddy-bear pyjama trousers. "We discussed the reflection of the sun from the visible moons, and thence from the sea."

"Yvonne would've done, too," Vila said to the others. "All right, then. It was too chilly to stay out that long. What'd you do then?"

Avon removed his dressing gown and got into bed. "We went back to his hotel."

"Oooh!" Vila clapped his hand over his mouth, his eyes sparking. "You didn't do anything I wouldn't have, did you?"

"That would have left me a wide field."

Vila launched himself across the room and onto Avon's bed.

Avon reared back, affronted. "Get off!"

"Oh, come on!" Vila hugged his knees. "We're BFFs!"

Avon examined that statement. "Best female friends?" he ventured.

"Best friends forever!"

"You presume too much, and with outrageous optimism."

"C'mon, Yve me old mate! What'd you two _do_?"

"We discussed finance and investments."

Saska's mouth dropped open.

"You won't see him again," said Mei. "Not that any of his dates ever have."

"On the contrary," said Avon with dignity. "He has ascertained our tour route and will be following it."

"Because," said Vila, jumping off Avon's bed, "talking about money means it's really serious. For Yvonne, anyway." He danced a gleeful circuit of the room, singing, "Money makes the world go around, the world go around, the world go around..."

"It certainly does in this planet's case," said Avon, pulling the bedclothes over his head.

* * *

  
"Our reputation has preceded us." Karlis waved a comms printout. "They want us to cancel the rest of our tour and perform for some bigwigs in Kaasdam."

"And are we?" It was good that they'd get to the capital a lot earlier than planned, but Vila wasn't sure he liked the idea. He did like the coastal resorts with their air of faded, out-of-date gentility dreaming of better days. Besides, leaving GP meant leaving Saska, and he found that he liked her too. A lot.

Avon leant back in his seat. "Define bigwigs. Local government?"

"What passes for it these days. They're apparently wanting to woo some off-planet visitors."

Saska pulled a face. "People they want to sell out to, you mean."

"The Federation," said Avon. "GP has after all applied for membership."

"Same thing," said Saska.

"They're sending an observer to see if they even want the place," said Soolin.

Vila looked horrified. "And we'd be playing for them?"

Karlis gave him a hard look. "We're professionals, Phyllida. A gig is a gig."

"Don't you even _care_?" demanded Saska.

"Yes, I care!" Karlis said fiercely. "But what can I do? I'll tell you: I can tend my own garden."

"An idea I like, candidly," said Vila, surprising Avon into temporary silence.

"And my garden is this band. We're being well paid for cancelling our tour. Enough to get us off this planet with what I've saved."

"And not before time if the Federation are taking over," said Vila. He glanced at Avon and moved closer so as not to be overheard. "Scarper before the gig?"

"No. Why should they recognise us? They've always suppressed the images of anyone likely to be regarded as heroes."

Vila was briefly distracted by the thought of himself as a hero, then looked doubtfully at Avon, who seemed no more eager to abandon the band than he was. He lowered one eyelid slightly. "Going to tell Jorj?"

"Of course I shall inform Farias," said Avon with dignity. "We are still liquidating his assets and moving the funds off-world."

"As long as no one liquidates _my_ assets."

Avon gave Vila one of those warm, affectionate looks, so long absent. "You don't have any."

 

"Of course I shall come with you, Yvonne. I have a townhouse in Kaasdam." Jorj smiled and took Avon's hand.

Avon let him. "Walking out" while holding hands seemed to be an old GP custom. He was just glad that Vila had never witnessed it. Not to mention the Latin dancing at which he had become rather proficient.

"I know you're planning to leave GP, Yvonne."

"Yes. What of it?"

"I would like to come too."

"I don't see why not. What are you doing?" Avon looked down, startled; Jorj was pressing a flat leather-covered container into his hand. "What's this?"

Jorj smiled shyly. "Open it."

Avon did so, to find a diamond ring, and a matching diamond bracelet and choker. "Jorj—"

"Yvonne." Jorj cleared his throat and took Avon's other hand. "Will you marry me?"

Avon stared at him, nonplussed. "I lead a somewhat unorthodox and dangerous life."

"I don't mind. I've found that I like the world of show business, even though I don't have the talent for it myself."

"I cannot bear children." _You may take that either way._

"I've never had much of a paternal instinct."

"I lived with a drummer for four years."

"I never expected you not to have a past."

Avon gave up. "I'm a man!"

Jorj smiled beatifically. "I know."

Avon stared at him, stunned. "You _know_?"

"I knew from the first evening. I've been out with a lot of girls, but they always left me cold. There was no spark. With you however..."

Avon shook his head, mystified. "Then why not just go out with men?"

"I can tell you're an off-worlder. This is still a frontier planet, a farming world. Preferences may not matter where you come from, but here it's always been rather narrow—"

"The breeding imperative." Avon nodded. "Multiply and fill the planet. That hardly matters if we are leaving, though."

"I expect not." Jorj smiled contentedly and put the bracelet around Avon's wrist.

Unsure what to say, and aware just how much the thing was worth, Avon was silent.

* * *

  
"Nice place, this," said Vila, looking around. From the stage where they were setting up for the evening's show, he could see beautifully laid tables and enough glasses to show that wine would flow freely amongst the audience. "Think they'll let us have something after the show?"

"No," said Avon. "We're as much hired help as the waiters."

"Except we've probably got better rooms!" They were staying in the hotel themselves, and for once they were only two to a room. The only downside was that Avon was his roommate instead of Saska. Soolin had seen to that; she was sharing with Mei and Saska was in with Karlis. Vila shrugged philosophically; not much he could do as Phyllida anyway.

Mei and Saska came in with coffee and news.

"I've just seen the Federation observer arrive," said Saska, "and it's a woman!"

Avon looked slightly wary. "So? We do make up just over fifty percent of the population."

"Ah, but this one's dressed up as if she's going to a ball."

Vila jumped up. alarmed, knocking his cymbals over.

"In a black gown," said Mei gleefully as she handed out coffee, "with this huge black and silver net collar thing. And bright red lippy and nail polish that frankly I think rather harsh and ageing on her. A softer pink would be much better." She wiggled her own fingers complacently, showing her rosy nails which were, Vila had noted earlier, the same colour as Soolin's; they must have done each other's in their room. Along with their matching hairstyles.

Soolin smiled. "Perhaps I should offer my services. I could do something permanent for her."

Vila looked at Avon, his face white around his makeup. "_Now_ we scarper?"

"I think that would be indicated."

"A dignified strategic withdrawal, then!"

"Oh, no you don't!" said Karlis, moving to stand in front of them. "Not with a major show tonight, you don't." She frowned, and looked from one to the other. "The Federation is after you, isn't it."

"You could say that," said Avon, moving one way.

"Wanted in all the wrong ways," said Vila, moving the other.

They ran for it.

 

They didn't even make it to the lifts.

"Why, Avon! I was just coming to see you." Servalan, flanked by two armed troopers, gave him her creamiest smile. "You look just as you do in the posters."

"And they say there's no such thing as bad publicity," said Avon.

Servalan sauntered up to him and looked him up and down. "Rather an attractive outfit, but I do think the fishnets are a mistake."

"Oh, I don't know." Avon glanced at her black gown with the silver spiders picked out on each breast, and the stiff black and silver netting framing her face. "I consider them on a par with webs as a fashion statement."

"Black widow," Vila muttered. "They eat their mates, you know."

"And it's Vila too! Your colour choices are—" her mouth twitched, "—striking to say the least."

"Whereas yours is banal," said Avon. "Besides, changing from white gowns to black hardly seems a very effective disguise."

"Yeah," said Vila. "Bit funereal, isn't it?"

"But so appropriate in this case!" Servalan's eyes narrowed as she took in Avon's jewellery. "Now _that_ is very nice."

"Isn't looting a bit low, even for you?" said Vila.

"Oh, Vila. Of course not! Avon will give them to me, won't you, Avon?"

"They won't fit you."

"They can be adjusted." Servalan nodded to her guards. "Arrest them."

"Same old accessories, I see," said Avon.

"Not even a matched pair," said Vila. "Couldn't you get them in the same height?"

"Oh and arrest their little band too."

"Hey! They're just musicians!"

"Too late. They're also witnesses now, Vila."

"Just what," growled Karlis from behind Avon and Vila, "are you doing with my people?"

"They're wanted rebels."

"I don't care." Karlis draw herself to her full height. "Nobody messes with my musicians!"

"I think you'll find that I can. And you know, dear, you really shouldn't wear that colour when you need so much of it."

Karlis took a furious step towards Servalan, stopping when one trooper's gun turned warningly in her direction.

"Hands on heads," growled the trooper. "All of you."

"No!" Vila moved to stand in front of Saska. "Look, take us, but leave them alone."

"How touching." Servalan's voice hardened. "Move, or I'll have one of you shot. Just to encourage the others. Perhaps that girl behind our gallant Vila."

"No!" shouted Vila, spreading his arms to protect Saska.

"No," said the shorter trooper, lifting her visor and turning to aim her gun at Servalan. "I've waited a long time for this, you cold-blooded murdering bitch. I want you to feel as helpless as my father was..." She paused for a second, then shrugged, said, "What the hell," and shot Servalan through the left spider.

"That was... rather abrupt, Dayna." The other trooper removed his helmet to reveal Tarrant's face.

"I know. Sorry. It's just that I thought of all those vids in which the mastermind wastes time gloating and the hero gets away. Except of course that we're the heroes."

"Dayna! Tarrant!" Vila sagged with relief. "I'm so glad it's you two! What an amazing coincidence!"

"Not really." Tarrant grinned dazzlingly. "We saw the posters too, so we took over from her guards. I have to say, Avon, that you're even more stunning in the flesh."

Avon tore his eyes away from Servalan, suppressing a strange regret. "Shut up, Tarrant. And you'd better get rid of the body before someone finds it."

"No problems." Tarrant grabbed one arm, and Dayna the other, leaving, Avon noted, a barely noticeable stain on the floor. So that was why hotels had such blindingly tasteless carpets. "Where would you like it?"

"There's this huge cake saying _Welcome to the Federation_ back in the function room," said Saska with interest.

"Hey!" Vila objected. "I fancied a bit of that!"

"This city is a space and a sea port," said Avon. "I suggest you weight and submerge her. I believe the expression is 'deep six'."

"Sleeping with the sharks," said Vila.

"Fish."

"Nah, give her some company." Vila turned to look at Saska. "Um, Saska..."

"You're not a girl, are you?"

"No," said Karlis. "She called them Avon and Vila. They're two of Blake's people."

"And that bothers you?" asked Avon.

Karlis shrugged. "Far from it. What bothers me is whether I have a band for the show tonight."

"Don't worry; we'll be there. After all, Hot Stuff had nothing to do with the disappearance of one of the hotel's guests."

"And the show must go on," said Vila, still looking at Saska. "Look, d'you mind? I mean about me."

"Are you _joking_?" Saska's eyes sparkled. "I always liked you—you're so sweet and fun to be with—and now I find out you're really a dashing rebel hero? And a good looking one too!"

"'Dashing' is correct," murmured Avon. "At speed."

"How d'you know?" asked Vila.

Saska went right up to Vila and stared into his eyes. "It was you on the beach, wasn't it? I knew those eyes were familiar." She kissed Vila.

After a while, Vila said, "And I am actually a millionaire as it happens."

"Really? Well, I suppose you would be, being the best thief in the galaxy."

Vila beamed.

* * *

  
"That went very well," said Karlis with satisfaction.

Jorj Farias nodded. "I think that was your best show yet."

"Even though the guest of honour who requested our presence seems to have disappeared." Karlis looked at the ceiling. "Her guards, they say, were found tied up in a closet."

"It's very mysterious," said Dayna expressionlessly, then grinned.

"Still, we now have enough to buy tickets off world." Karlis looked around at them all. "Which I suppose means the end of the band."

"I'm not sure about that." Avon said thoughtfully. "It would be a perfect cover for other activity."

Vila's face fell. "Like rebelling? Or," he looked hopeful, "something more profitable?"

"Either."

Jorj cleared his throat. "You needn't even buy tickets," he said diffidently. "I have a little yacht in orbit. Well, a rather large one, actually. Sleeps twelve; more is so ostentatious, don't you think? I was leaving anyway, and I've discovered I really like show business." He smiled at Avon, and looked around questioningly at the others.

Vila grinned. "We can all stay together! Well, I mean, if people want to."

Saska took his hand and squeezed it. "Me for one."

"There's a very good music conservatory on Califeron," said Avon. "We could drop Mei off there if she likes."

Mei looked at Soolin, and shook her head. "I've changed my mind about that. Hot Stuff is much more fun than studying with stuffy old professors."

"What about us?" asked Dayna, now in one of Saska's off-stage outfits.

Karlis regarded her and Tarrant, who was wearing Avon's black and white leather. "Can either of you play anything?"

"The lyre, the harp, and the banjo," said Dayna. "I like the old instruments. They're more challenging."

Tarrant pouted. "No. And besides, I'm not a girl. Or prepared to dress up as one," he added quickly.

"Even with those lovely curls and blue eyes?" Karlis walked around him, and patted his bottom appreciatively. "You know, we could do with a decorative token male on stage."

Tarrant tried to look outraged and failed. "And I am," he said modestly, "rather hot stuff."

The end


End file.
